


Clasp

by ledbythreads



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Best Friends, Blood Brothers, Canon Universe, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oneshot, Period Typical Attitudes, Porn with Feelings, Pre Zeppelin, Smut, no beta we die as dyslexics, teenage Robzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledbythreads/pseuds/ledbythreads
Summary: A Robert and Bonz ‘First time’ fic.It’s the summer1965. Robert is sixteen, nearly seventeen and kicked out of home spending more than half his time with John Henry. Robert has a job laying tarmac and his body is changing. John finds himself looking more than before.
Relationships: John Bonham/Robert Plant
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	Clasp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebookhunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebookhunter/gifts).



They haven’t said anything in over an hour. It’s too hot.

Whenever the record stops John climbs over Robert to change it. Because it’s John’s room. Because he has better taste.

Then they go back to sprawling side by side on the single bed. Legs hanging off the edge, backs on the wall because it is marginally cooler. Almost touching.

Robert is in cut off jeans. Shirtless. This is new the shirtless thing. Laying tarmac has given him abs, biceps, the beginnings of pecs. Now it’s hard to keep clothes on him and John’s mum thinks he is even more of a pervert than before. John likes the fuss. Likes becoming the strong silent type by comparison. His own muscles are not in doubt.

No harm in looking. Robert is drawing circles softly on the skin of his stomach. Lost in the music. His shorts are a little big in the waist because they are John’s castoffs. They hang lower than Robert’s work pants and so there is a bright white line of skin below the gold of his tan. His feet and calves are bright white too, like he is a brindle puppy with white markings. Robert’s nails are filthy as usual and his hands are blistered in places. Hardening.

John can’t keep still. Not unusual. Always tapping. Fingers calloused for years now. Percussive by nature, now there is always complexity there. Counterpoint to whatever he is listening to. Something about Robert is pulling John’s focus today. The rhythm of his breathing. The soft brushing of his fingertips. How quiet he is. It’s so hot.

No breeze, even here in the box room under the eaves.

The run out groove of the record is shushing shushing. John clambers over Robert for the hundredth time to where the record player is set on a beer crate at the bottom of the bed. Straddles him. Flips the record. Gently drops the needle. Listens for the first few bars kneeling, thighs each side of Robert’s hips. Robert looks up. His hands are still now. Skin glistening. A slight sheen of sweat over his top lip. John is aware some underlying rhythm of the day has changed.

John notices Robert’s nipples are hard, even in the heat. Then glances down to his crotch below John’s own. Robert is half hard. John has seen Robert with an erection too many times to pass comment. They share a bed half the time and Robert is always horny in this unfocused way that makes it just part of how he is. It doesn’t mean anything. No harm in looking. Looking down. John can smell Robert, smell the oily fumes in his hair, his sweat, patchouli. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it catches John off guard. Feeling like he is almost watching himself do it, he tangles a hand in Robert’s mop of hair and tips his face up. Looking down.

At this angle Robert’s face is almost level with John’s crotch. He could tip Robert’s head down and push his hips up against his face. John knows what it looks like. That must be why his belly clenches like that, reminding John of the two times he’s been blown in this exact same position. Funny. He might tell Robert later. They are both good stories for telling in the dark. At night John lies with Robert pressed to his chest. Hard cocks explained by the words said. Not by this looking. Not by what Robert’s hair smells like, or by how his lips have parted ever so slightly, or by his silence, or by his eyes locking onto John’s like they are doing right now. It’s so hot. No breeze. Needle in the groove. The riff. Swelling. Robert puts one hand against the back of John’s thigh. John kisses him.

It doesn’t feel like anything but surprise. At first. Robert stops breathing and his mouth opens. He tastes of cigarettes of course. But of himself. John is intensely aware of Robert’s fingers tight against the back of his thigh, the only thing Robert is actually doing.John can’t tell if he is being encouraged, or Robert is just shocked, or whether he much cares either way if he’s honest. Because if Robert didn’t want this he would just push him off right? It doesn’t mean anything. No harm in touching. Funny. Funny story right? But then Robert makes this soft sound.

Hard. Harder. Pressing. Robert’s mouth like nothing before. That soft sound in his mouth that... Belly flip sure, but he feels it mostly in his chest. Like fuck. Like. Kissing deeper. Hard. Heart beating. Beating. Beating. Robert kisses like he is drunk on it. John wants to hurt him, protect him, fight him, fuck.... That soft sound. Like half surrender, half victory. Fuck. Funny. So hot. They are still locked together but John drops down into Robert’s lap because his legs have... Fuck. And so he can feel Robert under him. Hard. Harder. His hand now on the small of John’s back. The other up against John’s chest. Trapped between them like... Still kissing. Hard. Harder. It’s exhilarating not having to be gentle. Pedal to the metal. Open up. Harder.

The run off groove shushing. Shushing. Robert’s hand trails down John’s chest, over the seams of his jeans. To his cock. No. No. John grabs Robert’s hand. Twists it away as he breaks their kiss. Grinning. Robert grins too. Lopsided. Shy. Bold. His lips are bruised. He licks them. Smirks. Ok smartarse. John twists Robert’s wrist a little till he blushes and looks soft again. A tenderness. That’s what John feels. A tenderness that’s almost too much. John drops Roberts wrist and pulls away to change the record. Robert’s other hand is still on him lightly. Just touching. Needle in the groove. Etta James singing Someone to Watch Over Me. So much emotion. No breeze. Becalmed.

John clambers back over Robert. Sits on the bed cross legged. Robert twists to do likewise. Mirrors him. Braves. Like Saturday morning cinema Indians. Robert just watches John now. John reaches out two fingers and touches Robert’s bottom lip. Traces down his chin and neck. Chest. Belly. Pocket. John hooks out Robert’s pocket knife. A smallish bone handled clasp knife. Robert keeps it sharp enough. John opens it up. It’s like they are kids again not sixteen, not seventeen. John runs the blade across the pad of his left palm and cuts into the flesh below his thumb. He looks up at Robert. Robert holds out his own right hand. They are too old for this. But it feels like it matters. Robert looks flushed. Wanting. John makes the small cut for Robert and they clasp their hands together. Blood mingled. Robert makes that sound again. Soft.

Slow. Slower. John licks their blood from the blade and wipes it dry on his jeans. Sets it aside. Hands still clasped together he pulls them back against the headboard so Robert is lying between his legs, his back to John’s chest. There is this moment where Robert has to turn under their joined hands that feels like some sort of old time dance. Now Robert is lying back against John and it feels timeless. The sun has shifted behind the house and the heat has become liquid. Robert lets his head fall against John’s shoulder and his free hand circles on his own belly again. John knows Robert wants to belong. That he never talks about it but he misses his family. That however wild he pretends to be, he wants to be like this. Tamed for a time. Held. He’s soft bodied now. Melting. 

John tangles his free hand in Robert’s hair again and kisses the side of his neck. Robert circles his hand lower, dips into the waistband of his cutoffs. With his free hand John reaches down to unzip them for him. Keeps kissing his neck as Robert pushes back against him. As he takes hold of his cock and slowly hardens under his own hand. John strokes Robert’s hair. Slowly. Harder. Looking.

John holds Robert tighter, their hands still clasped. He experimentally pulls Robert’s head back and Robert looks up into his eyes and whimpers. His breathing is faster. His hand on his cock tighter, faster. He clutches John’s hand tugging. John’s arm against his chest crushing him. John grazes Robert’s neck with his teeth. Wants to bite into the scruff of Robert’s neck and carry him. Robert’s new stomach muscles ripple as he clenches them. John is stronger. John feels like a bear. For once he feels still, centred, calm. So calm. Robert is half moaning now. John slips his thumb into Robert’s mouth to quieten him and Robert is starting to fall apart. John circles his other thumb against the back of Robert’s hand. Setting the rhythm. Slowing, slowing, slowing right down now. Easy now. Breaking it right down. Holding. Holding. The run out groove of the record shushing, shushing. The room is so quiet now except for the slow stroke of Robert’s hand and his feet slipping against the sheets. Left handed he is uncoordinated and frustrated. The bitten back gasps he can’t help making. John thinks he can hear Robert’s heart beating. He waits for the beat to even out and slow. Then. Only then. He drags his thumb over Robert’s teeth and drops his hand down to take over.

John’s solo. Robert’s hand clutching John’s thigh. Trying not to shout out. On and on. Only the rhythm of John’s hands. Robert falls but John won’t let him come. Won’t let him go. Holds him right over the edge till Robert just stops struggling to get there and let’s himself be held. Then John breaks him. Breaks him open, raw, hurting, bleeding, held. Robert comes loose limbed and ragged. Hands open. Crying. John rocks him. Wraps both arms and legs round him. Till everything fades to silence.

Robert pulls away finally. Finds one of their T-shirts and wipes his face, his belly. Clambers over John’s legs to the end of the bed. Lifts the needle off the record and slips it up by the edges. John sees him glance at the closed cut at the base of his thumb and smile. Robert slips the record into the cover then into the sleeve. He slips off the bed, and crouching, flips through their joint pile of LPs. Chooses something they haven’t listened to in a while. One of his old favourites. Needle in the groove. The waves of sound. John makes room for Robert on the bed. They sit side by side. Touching.

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic for thebookhunter (because umm brothers) 
> 
> The timeline is probably a bit off and under researched (their age part of an ask on tumblr) - set 1965 . In fanlore Robzo tends to be a long teen friendship thing but Bonham and Plant meet later and first are in a band together in the Crawling King Snakes circa 1967 here not mentioned. RP was homeless at 16, 17, and he had various jobs which did include laying tarmac and getting pretty muscles. JB marries Pat at 17 btw. They grew up pretty quick although RP came from a softer background. Anyway now this would not be ‘underage’ sex in the UK but was illegal at the time with no age of consent for sex between men of any age till 1967. 
> 
> The Etta James song Someone to Watch Over Me was released 1962 on the album Etta James Sings for Lovers. Although JB is often considered as a hard rock drummer he was very influenced by softer blues, soul, and jazz.
> 
> Canon: JB’s mum really did think Robert was a pervert - an incident with her curtains and some over-enthusiastic pole humping on stage apparently.


End file.
